The Wooden Sea
Chapter One
Old Vertue
Never buy yellow clothes or cheap leather. That's my credo and there are more.
Know what I like to see? People killing them selves. Don't misunderstand; I'm
not talking about the poor fucks who jump out windows or stick their sorry heads
into plastic bags forever. No "Ultimate Fighting Championship" either, which is
only a bunch of rabid crewcuts biting each other. I'm talking about the guy on
the street, face the color of wet lead, lighting up a Camel and coughing up his
soul the moment he inhales. Good for you, Sport! Long live nicotine,
stubbornness, and self- indulgence.
"Let's have another round here, Jimmy!" croons King Cholesterol down at the end
of the bar. He with the rosy nose and enough high blood pressure to launch him
and his whole family tree to Pluto. Gratification, mass, texture. The heart
attack that'll nuke him will last a few seconds. The cold beer in thick mugs and
perfume of grilling T-bone steaks are forever until he dies. It's worth the
trade-off. I'm with him.
My wife Magda says getting me to understand is like th ... read full excerpt from The Wooden Sea ebook
